


The Fruit of the Hesperides

by gracefulfallen



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Almost resolved Sexual Tension, Between Episodes, F/F, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5523860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulfallen/pseuds/gracefulfallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla broods over being a vampire.  So what else is new.  Takes place some point after 01x24.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fruit of the Hesperides

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tumblr user sleeping-with-the-anemone for Carmilla Secret Santa 2015. Happy holidays! It's been fun being your Santa!
> 
> The prompt was "Apples".

The light is streaming low through the windows, soft and golden when Carmilla wakes.  She stretches, back arching, face buried in the yellow pillow that constantly smells of Laura and collapses back onto the bed, content.  It’s rare that she gets moments alone like this – moments where she can just relax.  No mother to worry about, no frustrating roommates who remind her of even more frustrating prophecies from idiotic faeries.  Just quiet and books.

She picks one up, sighing contentedly, when the door slams open.  Wonderful. 

She glances over the headboard to see Laura standing there, annoyed and toting an armful of fruit.  Which was unusual, to say the least. 

Laura storms in, throwing her burden down on the kitchen cabinet and muttering to herself about exes and TAs and people who think they can tell her what to eat for her own good.  She throws a banana across the room and it thuds thickly into the wall, tumbling down on top of her desk.  Huffs out a sigh, and slams her hands down onto the counter.

It’s too perfect an opportunity to annoy her and so Carmilla pops up with a snide, “What, can’t stomach seeing the Jolly Red Giant for an entire class?”

Laura turns on her, scowling, and Carmilla suppresses a laugh.  “That’s not what’s wrong.” 

It’s much too easy to get a rise out of Laura.  Carmilla raises an eyebrow.  “No?  Because your lit class should be going on right now…”

The groan of hateful annoyance is truly spectacular.  “No one asked you, Carmilla.  No one asked anyone _anything_ and yet they feel like they have the moral superiority to tell me I should try an apple for once instead of a cookie!”

She slams a butcher’s knife into a Red Delicious, cutting aggressively misshapen slices.  “I’m not some toddler.  I can eat fruit.  I _love_ fruit.”  

The scent wafts as Laura passes by her on her way to her desk, and _christ_ it smells good.  Before Carmilla can stop herself she murmurs “I used to love apples.”

Then she’s cursing herself in four different languages, and scowling down at _The Myth of Sisyphus_ as she contemplates the true meaning of the paradox of the absurd. 

Laura doesn’t respond.

There’s no way she didn’t hear her.  Carmilla’s not that lucky - has never been lucky in her life and so she looks up over the top of her book at the girl who is now gaping at her, a half-forgotten apple slice clutched loosely in one hand.

It makes her insides itch, Laura staring at her like that, and so she snaps, “What?  The monster isn’t allowed to like fruit?”

Laura stares at her, anger forgotten and eyebrows rising in confusion.  “I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to.”  The bite in Carmilla’s voice surprises even her.  She’s never been one to apologize though so she just stares at Laura defiantly, back straight, chin up.

Laura looks away, setting the apple slices down and turns her back to Carmilla.  Her shoulders are stiff in the way they get when her feelings are hurt and there’s suddenly a burning knot at the back of Carmilla’s throat.

She stares at the back of Laura’s head, willing herself to apologize.  It’s never been something she really knew how to do though - can never think of what to say, or really figure out how to start saying it and so she’s left just… waiting.   Words cloyingly thick on a tongue that’s forgotten how to shape sounds.

She stares at Laura for a good five minutes waiting for her to turn around but she doesn’t.  Eventually Carmilla releases a sigh tinged with a little bit of wistfulness and a lot of regret, and returns to Camus.  It doesn’t improve her mood.  His work rarely does. 

She lets her head fall back and sets the book over her eyes.  Closes them, hoping to sleep away this frustration.  Laura’s voice breaks the silence.

“I don’t know why you’re being such an asshole about this.”

Her voice is tremulous, wavering slightly over the vowels and Carmilla can hear the way it hitches slightly as she takes slow, deep, calming breaths.  Breaths that should be silent – would be to any _normal_ person.  It makes her feel even worse. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it Carmilla.  I was just surprised.  You don’t seem to like a lot of things.” 

Laura’s back is still to her, slim shoulders quaking slightly as she steadies herself and Carmilla is on her feet before she can think about anything, gently spinning Laura’s chair around to face her as she drops to a knee. 

Laura is still avoiding her eyes, tears pooling in the corners and _god_ she’s beautiful, and _god_ Carmilla knows what a dick she is being to someone who absolutely does not deserve her nihilistic crap right now, but she’s not entirely sure how to fix this.  So she says nothing, just stands and heads to the kitchen, setting the electric kettle to boil. 

She shreds open a packet of cocoa mix, doctoring it with hints of cinnamon and little bit of extra sugar, then pulls some cookies out of a packet and places them on a plate.  Pours the hot water over the cocoa and whisks it quickly.  Brings the whole thing back to Laura’s desk and sets it down in front of her. 

It’s an offering, and they both seem to know it’s as close to an apology as Carmilla gets, but she wants to give something more – even if she doesn’t quite know what or how.  So she speaks.

“My favorite apple was the Akero.”  Laura still isn’t looking at her – just at the hot cocoa Carmilla has set down at the desk – so she keeps going, her own eyes tracing Laura’s jawline in a way she wishes she could with her hands.  “We had trading partners in Sweden, and they’d bring in bushels of them every fall.”

Laura picks up the cocoa and takes a delicate sip.  Carmilla watches her lips meet the cup, watches the liquid slide down her throat.  She swallows too.  “They were sweet, crisp, and when you broke the skin with your teeth the juice rolled down your tongue and over your hands.  I’d smell of them for days.”

Laura turns and meets her eyes.  Carmilla’s stomach fills with fire, but she holds her gaze, biting the inside of her bottom lip.

Laura swallows once thickly.  “You said you used to love them.” 

The question in her voice is obvious.  Carmilla sighs.  Looks away.  Back to Laura.  Away again.  Picks up a discarded slice from Laura’s plate.  They’re browning slightly, the slow pull of rot and death taking them already.  But they still smell fantastic. 

She inhales deeply.  Turns to look at Laura and opens her mouth, wide enough to show her the two fangs protruding from where her canines were before.  “It’s a matter of appetites.” 

Laura’s eyes are wide, and Carmilla’s mouth twists wryly.  “Almost anything I loved before I changed does… this to me now.”  She sneers –more at herself than anything else. “Hard to savor something when your fangs get caught in it before you can take a bite.”

Laura still hasn’t said anything, her eyes wide and catching on the sharp points of each fang, tracing them in the light of the setting sun.  Carmilla can’t blame her.  They’d been buried in her neck at one point after all.  It still hurts though, to see her stare like that.  She shuts her mouth and turns away, heading back to her bed and the absurdity of reading a novel that speaks of the humanizing value of mortality.

This was stupid.  She was stupid, and she can’t believe what she’s just done, can’t believe she ever expected some 19-year old to…

She’s too wrapped up in her own brooding to notice that Laura is at her bedside until she sets a small hand on her shoulder.  Carmilla looks up into honeyed brown eyes, confused and wary.  For once, Laura doesn’t say anything, just settles onto the bed next to her, plate and knife in hand.  Cuts an apple slice into small cubes. 

Carmilla opens her mouth to ask something – anything - but Laura places one thin index finger on her lips, closing her mouth and shushing her.  Carmilla freezes, eyes closing for the barest hint of a moment.  When she reopens them Laura is looking at her, eyes wider than normal – but she is calmer than Carmilla has seen her in weeks.   

They pause like that for a moment.  Frozen in tableau.  Then Laura’s finger parts Carmilla’s lips and she responds to the gentle, persistent pressure, mouth opening and tongue reaching out to flick over Laura’s fingertip.  Laura swallows.  Hesitates for a moment.  Then she’s picking up a cube of apple and slipping it lightly between Carmilla’s lips, juice dripping onto Carmilla’s tongue. 

Carmilla feels it build - the desire to _bite_ and consume absolutely.  Her breath catches, pupils dilate, and then the cube passes between her fangs and into her mouth and she chews, eyes locked and never leaving Laura’s.  Swallows.

Laura has her chin between middle finger and thumb, holding her in place as if she expects her to bolt.  She uses her index finger to wipe a drop of juice from the corner of Carmilla’s mouth.  Brings it to her own lips, pink tongue darting out to taste it.

The moment stretches, lush and heavy, and then a shriek from the quad and the sound of some new battle in the Summer/Zeta war tears through the silence, echoing off of the walls and back to both of them. 

Laura steps away from her quickly, running a hand through her hair and clearing her throat.  Carmilla watches her for a moment, eyes wide, then whatever spell she is under finally breaks and she is able to move again.  She clears her own throat, smoothing a hand over the front of her shirt then running her thumb over her lips in a quick swipe.  Picks Camus back up, but doubts she has the focus for it now.  Stands, heading towards the door.  Opens it.

“You know” and Laura’s voice causes her to freeze with her back to her, halfway out into the hall.  “It’s ok to still want things.  It’s ok to want them in a different way than you used to.” 

Carmilla glances over her shoulder, eyes meeting Laura’s.  Laura gives her a not-quite-smile.  “You still deserve the things that you want.”

She’s not sure she believes her or how to respond, and so she turns and walks out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come find me on Tumblr. I'm gracefulfallen there as well.


End file.
